It was just past midnight, streetlights flickering in and out. It was dark out — dark enough to be deemed dangerous if you didn’t know your way around.

But Red did. He wasn’t worried at all as he trudged down the cracked sidewalk, cigarette hanging idly between his ‘lips’.

He had no designation in mind — he just needed a walk. And he ended up at a place he found himself at nearly every day.

Grillby’s. Open 24/7. Red needed a drink, and badly.